


New Scars and Old Scars

by SomedayonBroadway



Series: The New Kid [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Canon Era, Nightmares, PTSD, Scars, The Refuge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23605534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway
Summary: Race gets an unexpected visitor.
Relationships: Jack Kelly & Racetrack Higgins
Series: The New Kid [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1201102
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	New Scars and Old Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BroadwayIsMyPurposeInLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayIsMyPurposeInLife/gifts).



> Hi guys! This is just a little continuation of my New Kid series. It's very short and small, but it won't make too much sense unless you read the two stories before this. The New Kid and New Threats.
> 
> I got a request forever ago to continue this universe from BroadwayIsMyPurposeInLife. Sorry it took so long friend!
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy!

It was getting late. Race was practically falling asleep on the couch. But he refused to let himself pass out.

Albert and Finch were at the table across the room, playing cards. He'd thought about playing with them. But he was too tired.

He just couldn't close his eyes. He knew what he'd see if he let himself drift off.

He just couldn't do it again.

Footsteps coming down the stairs made it known to him that he couldn't stay there, feebly trying to keep his eyes open. He expected the voice. "Racer… ya can't stay here all night. Not again…" But it still made him jump. He looked over, his eyes red with exhaustion as he let himself find the worried gaze of the one and only Jack Kelly kneeling down in front of him. "Jesus, kid… ya look like hell…"

The boy let a bitter grin spread on his face. "Just what a guy loves ta hear," he whispered, lacking the energy to speak properly.

Jack seemed to notice. With a small glare, he shook his head. "It's late. Ya need sleep," he stated, knowing more than anyone that this boy definitely did not want to sleep. Shaking his head, Race tried to stand, to walk to the other boys who were still wide awake across the room. His legs gave out from under him. He could vaguely hear Jack call his name before arms wrapped around his torso, keeping him from hitting the floor. "Whoa… whoa, steady now, pal… I gotcha… let's go upstairs, alright?"

Race tried futilely to protest. But he was helped up the stairs, an arm around his friend's shoulders as they walked. "Jackie… 'm fine…"

Sighing, the older boy shook his head. "I know, kid… you're just fine…" he mumbled, holding his friend tightly to him as he made it to the washroom door, just inside the bunk room. "Okay… let's getcha changed…"

"Don' need y'r help…" Race insisted, pushing his way away from the newsie leader as they got inside.

He didn't mean it. Not really. Jack knew that.

Jack knew a lot of things.

So the Manhattan king stood back, hands raised in surrender as Race found his sleep clothes sitting on one of the counters. He sighed as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror just above them.

He really did look like hell.

It was only going to get worse as he began to strip himself of his selling clothes.

The scars were hardly healed, still standing out prominently against his pale skin. He slowed when he saw them all again. Blinking, he tried to turn away only to find that Jack was still there. It wasn't that he hadn't expected him to stay. It was just that Jack always made it a point not to look at him when his scars were visible. It wasn't just for Race. It was for Jack too.

After all, he had similar scars.

"Jackie… could you… uh… could you…" he hated to ask it. He hated it. But Jack just nodded, looking up at him solemnly and offering him a sad smile as he walked over to the sink and grabbed a cloth, running it under some cool water before pulling out a small stool and prompting his young friend to sit. Race did. And Jack helped him out of his undershirt, leaving his torso completely bare. The scars were completely exposed.

For a long moment, Jack just looked at the horrible word that was burned into his friend's back. It was over whip lashes and other various bruises that finally seemed to be fading after weeks of being out of that hell they called a refuge. The younger boy let his head fall into his hands. He was clearly beyond exhausted. So Jack bit his lip and began to dab the cloth over the kid's skin.

With the insistence that it made Race feel better, Jack was happy to do it.

But it didn't make it any easier to see the horrors that this kid had to live through in his brief time at the place that Jack hated the most.

The child relaxed at the coolness that ran over his skin. He rubbed at his eyes as Jack traced over the words, writing his own sentences and names on top of the awful thing. Sometimes Race tried to guess what he was writing. Sometimes he didn't have to. Jack would sing them to him sometimes. Just a small hum of his own nickname or whatever Jack could come up with on that particular night.

It calmed him even more to think about all of the things Jack loved to draw on his back. _Racetrack. Kiddo. Blondie. Blue eyes. Pal. Brother._ The small assurances made him smile, even if only a little bit.

The older newsie was doing it again. Writing something over the burns that were there to remind him what the world thought of him. Jack was good at distracting him. But once Jack was done, it all came crashing back down. Hard.

Jack ran the rag over the boy's back, cooling him off before he traced a word over the burns on Race's back. _Fighter_ , he wrote out, watching the boy's shoulders relax beneath his touch.

It had been weeks now.

"Alright, bud… it's time f'r bed," he whispered, standing to his feet and ruffling the boy's hair gently.

Racer nodded only a little before slipping on another white shirt and kicking off his shoes as they made their way back towards the bunk. "Ya think Crutchie 'll mind if ya stay with me again?" Race mumbled, practically collapsing into his normal bunk.

A weight joined the mattress just beside him and a hand ran through his hair, giving the boy his answer. He turned to his side to face his friend. His brother. And he saw a small smile on Jack's face as he took in a deep breath. "Goodnight, Racer…"

The younger boy just watched his big brother for a moment, trying to remind himself that even if what he saw when he closed his eyes was horrific, all he had to do was open them back up to find the boy who'd saved him still just beside him.

Everything would be alright. Right now he could breathe and know that he was with Jack.

And in that moment, that was enough.

—

_"You're a spitting image…"_

_"Anthony Higgins…"_

_"You deserve this, boy!"_

When Race shot up in his bed, he bit his lip, suppressing a scream. He blinked himself awake desperately as he reminded himself he needed to breathe. All that he could do was grasp onto his flimsy blanket and try to ground himself.

He couldn't wake the others. Not again. Besides, judging by the trickle of light filtering in through the window, the morning bell would ring soon.

The boy looked down. Jack was laying on his stomach, his head turned away from him, fast asleep. He let himself calm for a moment and he closed his eyes and lay his back down on the mattress, staring up at the bunk above them. At least he'd gotten some sleep.

When Jack had first brought him back home, he refused to sleep for a week, only giving up when he'd finally passed out. When Jack had first brought him back home, nearly a month ago, he'd hardly been able to move, much less sell. Sometimes, it still hurt to move. He kept bandages wrapped around his wrists to hide some of the scars. He hadn't carried a little on his back since it happened. They'd done what they could for him, using what was left of their slush fund to get him a doctor.

He'd be dead without his brothers.

That didn't mean that it all still didn't hurt.

Little Romeo was still too scared and guilty to spend more than five minutes at his side. Everyone tiptoed around him like he was made of glass all the time. Jack kept an extra careful eye on him and treated him like one of the littles, telling him when to sleep and when to eat and where to go when he was allowed to sell and how far he was allowed to be from one of the others.

It was exhausting in itself.

He needed a smoke.

Normally when Race reached for his cigar this early in the morning, Jack told him to go back to sleep, to at least rest a little more before he decided to light up again. But this morning, Jack hardly even stirred.

So Race took his cigar and a match and pulled the window open, slipping out onto the fire escape into the cold morning air. He took a puff from his cig and leaned against the railing, looking out over the city that was just waking up. His hand shook just slightly.

Jack told him it would go away. Race wasn't so sure. The tremors weren't horrible. But they got worse whenever he thought about the events he'd lived through.

He'd once thought that it wouldn't get any worse. That he'd lived through hell and had survived that much and it couldn't possibly get worse. The nightmares, the terror…

He'd been wrong.

Snyder was more than he'd expected him to be. Not his father. But close.

But he'd survived. Jack called him a fighter. Jack told him he'd been to hell and back at that made him strong. But he didn't feel strong.

"I heard you were dead."

The voice startled Race more than he cared to admit, he turned around, ready to unleash hell on whoever it was that was behind him.

He froze when he saw who had managed to sneak up behind him on that small fire escape. He found a young man, a few inches taller than him. He had dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. His skin was as slightly tanned.

He had an Italian accent. One that had been mixed with that of a New York one.

One that Race had desperately been trying to get rid of himself since the day he'd run.

"Vinnie?"

A grin spread on the young man's face. "I thought maybe you forgot about me," the guy laughed, bringing a hand down on Race's back.

The boy flinched and jumped away. His back hit the rail behind him. Vinnie smirked, but put his hands up as a sign of peace. Race saw a small cigarette between his fingers. The guy brought it to his lips and took a breath.

But Race shook his head. "What… how… how did you find me?"

With a small scoff, the man took a step closer to him. And Race grasped at the railing, not contemplating whether or not it would be beneficial to scream. Jack would hear him for sure.

But with a cry, more than Jack would be out here to help. That meant that Race had to explain. And he couldn't do that. He couldn't tell them.

They'd never look at him the same way again.

"Lo amico, ya ain't hard ta find," the man stated, looking down at him, seeming amused and just the slightest bit impressed. "I found ya a month afta' ya ran away from me… but I figured… I'll come getcha when ya need me," he stated, blowing a bit of smoke in the boy's face. "Now… only a couple days ago I hear from a pal o' mine that The Refuge gotcha," he stated. "Said ya got burried alive."

Two years. It had been two years since he'd last seen this man. Two years since he'd decided he was no longer going to be saddled to his family. He was no longer going to accept the way he was being treated by his big brother. A man who had vowed to protect him.

He had Jack now. He had Jack.

"I… I got away…" he stuttered. Looking inside to catch a glimpse of movement. The littles were waking up. Little Romeo was climbing down from the bunk that Crutchie was now laying on alone. "What are you doin' here?"

"I's here ta see my fratellino. È un crimine?"

"Da quando ti importa?" Race shot back, trying to push past him and slip back in through his window. But Vinnie pushed him back. "Go away, Vinnie! I ain't your puppet no more!" he stated, trying once again to get back to the window. But he was grabbed and pulled towards the man's chest. Vinnie slipped their cigar out of his hand before Race could even think about using it to burn him.

"Is that how you think of yourself?" Vinnie asked, grabbing his little brother's wrists. "You are so much more than that, Tony…" The boy flinched at the use of a name he tried day after day to forget. "You're my family… all I got left… I am gonna take care a' you's—"

Race tried to rip his bandaged wrists from this man's grasp. But the man was stronger than him. He always had been. "No! I don't need you ta take care a' me!" he insisted, trying to rip away from his brother. "I have a family that loves me! I got people who watch my back! All you did was use me ta get yourself more cash ta burn away!"

He regretted those words the moment they left his lips. He knew they were wrong. He knew he wasn't thinking straight. He knew he needed to correct himself. Apologize. But with the tight grips around his scared and trembling hands, all he could do was panic as his mind raced and flashed back through his own whirl of a life.

And Vinnie scowled. "All I did? That was all I did? Huh?" His grip only seemed to tighten. It was as iron as their father's. Race suddenly felt dizzy. The cigar and cigarette were both held in Vinnie's left hand, dangerously close to touching the younger boy's own flesh. "Hai idea di quante volte ha tentato di ucciderti?"

Race paled. Now he really felt sick. He tried to pull away again, not daring to answer that question. He didn't want to think about it. "Lasciar andare! Adesso!"

"I took beating after beating f'r you. I almost lost an arm! For you! Every time you screamed or went lookin' f'r help or tried ta turn him in, I was the one who saved your sorry ass!" It was true. Race knew it was true. Because there had been a time when Vinnie was all that stood between him and their father having enough.

He owed this man, his brother, his life. Time and time again. But that didn't mean Race wasn't still scared of him. That didn't mean that Vinnie hadn't still turned on him, becoming more and more like their father everyday. Vinnie had hurt him too. Still, all Race could come up with to say was, "Scusati…" It was an apology. A small one.

His hands were still shaking beyond his control. He stopped trying to rip them from the young man's hold. He felt tears pricking at his eyes. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want his brothers to know he was standing here with the one person who could blow everything for him. The one person that could ruin it all. Get him thrown out, even killed.

He didn't want them to know.

He was scared.

"What d'ya want, Vinnie?" he forced out, his voice breaking as he tried desperately not to cry.

He'd had enough of crying. He wasn't a kid anymore. He needed to grow up. Move past this.

But everything was coming back so fast now.

"I want my fratellino back," the man stated, as if it should've been obvious. "Ho un posto. It's time ta come home. Adesso."

Race shook his head vigorously. "No… no, I… I ain't goin' back with you…" he breathed, unsure as to why this was even happening.

Two years. It had been two years.

Vinnie just laughed. "Ti farai uccidere da solo! You need me. We're goin'. C'mon. I's doin' this ta keep you's safe—"

"I ain't on my own! I told ya, I got folks who got my back!"

"N' they know you're bein' hunted like some dog?! They know who ya are n' what protectin' you means?!"

The boy paused at that. He took a shuddering breath as the words rolled over in his mind. Because… no. These boys didn't know. They didn't know who he was or what they were risking by protecting him. Hell, even Jack didn't understand that harboring him meant he'd get the same penalty that Race would if the real authorities ever caught them.

They could get hanged.

Jack could get killed because of him.

"È quello che pensavo," Vinnie spat, tugging on his wrists forcefully as he began to walk towards the edge of the fire escape.

But just as he might've begun forcing Race down the ladder, the window was slid open. And the young Italian boy could've cried in relief at the person who was climbing out to them. "You alright out here, pal?"

"Jack, mi dispiace così tanto, non sapevo che fosse—" Vinnie forcefully pulled Race closer to him, pinning the boy's back against his chest, almost like he was using him as a human shield. But Jack held no weapon. Jack posed no threat at all.

Yet he was strangely calm.

Jack made a point to close the window behind him. Race only caught a glimpse of a couple littles wide eyed by the window. He didn't know what to do.

He wanted so badly to scream. But the only person in the world who truly wanted to help him was already standing there, looking at him softly. Race's wrists were still in Vinnie's grasp, only now they were held in front of him.

He could hardly breathe.

Jack walked up to him in a moment, gently and carefully reaching towards him. Race tried to reach out for him too. But Vinnie's grip tightened. "Jack, I don' wanna go back…"

"Ya ain't goin' nowhere, kid," his big brother promised. "Hey… look at me…" Race did. Jack looked heartbroken. Race seemed to have that effect on him. "Hey… ain't nobody but you an' me…"

The words confused the boy.

But he heart dropped when he blinked again and again, whirling around to find empty air behind him. In fact, it was still dark outside. He wasn't even outside.

He was standing beside his bunk.

His legs were shaking just as much as his hands were.

"N-no… h-he… he was here… Vinnie… Vinnie… I could… I could _feel him_ here, Jack… he was—"

"He's not here, Racer… it was just a bad dream…" Jack assured, taking another step towards him.

Race looked around. Some boys were stirring, waking up to see what the commotion was. He shook his head. "It… it was real, Jackie—"

"No, kiddo… it wasn't… it's okay… I'm here… no one is gonna take you away again," Jack promised.

Still, Race was having an increasingly difficult time allowing himself to believe the older boy. All he could do was collapse in on himself on the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and gripping at his hair.

Jack kneeled down beside him, afraid to try and touch him again. "You were sleep walkin', pal… everything's okay… you're here, you're home n' you're safe… everythin's okay," the newsie leader promised. "Just breathe… it's okay—"

"It's not okay… I… Vinnie… Snyder… someone's gonna find me," the boy whimpered. "N' if they find out that you _knew_... they'll take you too…" he admitted, finally looking up at the boy who had been his savior and protector for the past two years. "Jack—"

"Racer, if you tell me ya can't stay here, I'll soak ya myself. You are a newsie. You're my brotha' n' you ain't lookin' ta hurt no one. You are not your fatha'," Jack insisted for what must've been the millionth time. He was whispering. Race was sure no one knew truly what was being said.

All he could do was whimper. "I'm scared…" He hated admitting it. He truly did.

Finally, Jack reached forward and gently ran fingers through his brother's hair. "It's okay ta be scared… none of this… none of what happened ta you was your fault… you didn't choose none of it… I know it's hard… but I ain't eva' gonna let no one take you again, okay? Ya just gotta trust me…"

"But what if—"

"No 'buts', pal. Do ya trust me?"

Race's grip on his own blond curls loosened, even only slightly. He looked at Jack, genuinely looked at him. And all he could do was nod and let out a watery sob. "Yes…"

Jack smiled sadly and carefully tucked the boy into his chest as he stroked the back of his hair. "Okay… you're safe. I got you… everything's gonna be okay," he promised, simply holding the boy close to him.

Eventually, Race was lulled back to sleep by his big brother. Jack moved him back to the bed and kept his arms wrapped tightly around his brother. "I got you, kid… I promise… I got you…"

And he would. For the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about that mislead, friends! Race just needed a break from the actual torture for one story. Now it's all in his head. :(
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!


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